


Victoria's Secret

by kissing2cousins



Series: Sexperiments [5]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Beer, Cabin Fic, Drinking, Drinking Games, Hang over, M/M, Wine, bloopers, good morning kissing, shinanagins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissing2cousins/pseuds/kissing2cousins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up with an awful hang over at Jack's cabin, after a night of poker.  As she tries to get dressed she can't seem to find one very important piece of equipment: her new bra from Victoria's Secret.  She finds it in the most unlikely of places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victoria's Secret

ADF

 

The astrophysicist had studied Georges Lemaitre’s “hypothesis of the primeval atom” but had never thought she would experience the Big Bang within the confines of her own cranium.  Her skull throbbed, as though her head were some kind of ornamental Chinese gong mercilessly being hammered.  Her thin fingers came up, running from her temples back through her blond pixie cut hair, unable to calm the pain or the pounding.  Cradling her head in her palms like a giant melon about to be sliced for the summer picnic, she willed herself to hold it together and fight past the fog and cottonmouth that came along with it.  Perhaps she was being a little over dramatic, but the Major knew for damn sure that the after effects of Tequila—even if fancied up with the sweet and alluring flavor of pomegranates—was worse than being shot with a zat’nik’tel.

 

Sam rolled over onto her side and slowly managed to prop herself up on one elbow.  She blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the morning light that streamed in through the one tiny window above the head board of the double bed.   She fought off the dryness in her mouth, as she raked a hand back through her bangs to allow her to survey her surroundings.  She was in a small but adequately furnished bedroom.  She was swathed in a down duvet on the bed as though she had been twisting like a tornado in her sleep—it was wrapped around her so tight that even the blue camisole she had worn to bed was askew, threatening to allow the girls to much freedom.  She adjusted the wayward top, slowly wiggling out of the twisted blankets, as she sat up on her backside on the mattress.  As the blanket came free the Major realized she wasn’t wearing any pants—the silken bikini bottom Victoria Secret’s were still on duty but the rest of her wardrobe was MIA.

 

The blond cursed the throbbing of her melon, as she tried to think past the fog that the Tequila had rolled in over her generally acute mind.  It urked the scientist in her that she was unable to calculate the odds of finding her clothes all accounted for somewhere within the confines of what she now was able to assess was the guest bedroom of her CO’s cabin, in Minnesota.  Of course, Sam knew that she was not in Colorado anymore—they all had been wrangled into taking the trip with the Colonel out to the cabin, somewhere within the Minnesota wilderness.  She couldn’t think of why she had agreed to go now that her brain felt like it had melted within the confines of her skull, sloshing around in there, irritatingly useless. 

 

The Major in her demanded that she pull herself together, ordering the blond to come to attention and begin the search and rescue mission for her MIA clothing.  She had managed to stand, a little too abruptly and her equilibrium went off its kilter, the vertigo that ensued nearly toppling her.  Sam closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath, managing to stay on her bare feet, even though the cold floor was a shock to her senses. 

 

“Get it together, Major,” she whispered to herself, as she took another deep inhale of breath. 

 

When she opened her blue eyes again the woman in her couldn’t help but note the lack of decoration on the white walls on the small guest room.  A single picture hung in a frame on the wall opposite her—a picture of Jack’s son Charlie.  That was it.  The double bed was a decent size, with two mismatched nightstands on either side of it.  Sam up righted the toppled moose lamp on the dark oak stand closest to her, noting that the ugly green shade wasn’t even dirty.

 

Making the bed was the first task.  She methodically went through the motions of finding the top sheet, straightening the duvet, and checking for any of her clothes within before she finished.  She tossed the pillows from the floor up onto the bed and scouted underneath the bed frame, finding nothing—not even a dusty bunny.  She straightened with her brows furrowed in frustration and did another sweep around the perimeter of the room, which proved fruitless.  Nope.  She really had gone to bed the night before in nothing but her camisole and her panties—even her bra was missing.   _I just hope to hell I didn’t get any help taking it off,_ she thought in frustration, as moved to the solid wood door.

 

The Major listened for a moment first, before she cautiously opened it and peaked into the hallway outside.  The cabin was still.  She could hear birds chirping mingled with unidentifiable rough choking snores.   _Someone is definitely sawing logs,_ she assessed thankfully,  _I just hope all of them are asleep._ She slipped out of the door and was delighted to see that wedged in the bathroom door was her Rock N Republic dark wash blue jeans.  She double-checked that none of the boys were in sight and then took the dash across the narrow hallway in two steps, ducking into the bathroom. 

 

With the door closed firmly behind her, Sam slipped into the blue jeans, noting with interest that they were particularly clean for a night of drinking with her boys.  Sam knew she was at femininely graced with a sturdy hand so she was not apt to spill a drop on herself, but past experiences had demonstrated that Daniel was not as lucky and that her CO and his Jaffa partner in crime tended to rough house.  Still, even with an extra close inspection she concluded that her blue jeans were more than fit for the days wear.  One less thing she’d have to worry about.

 

She righted and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored cabinet above the small sink.  “Egad,” she whispered to herself, as she found a clean face cloth hung beside the counter and wet it to clean to smudged mascara and eyeliner from under tired eyes.  De-racooned the Major felt better.  With her over-night bag conveniently on the counter by the sink she went about her usual morning routine, washing her face, brushing her hair and then her teeth, and reapplying what little make up she felt like wearing after a night of boozing. 

 

When she was finished, she admired the reflection in the mirror, thinking,  _not bad, Major.  Good enough for a day of fishing with the boys._ Her reflection suddenly reminded her that she was bra-less, the tip of her nipples visible through the thin fabric of the camisole.  Her brows crossed in irritation.  Why couldn’t she remember enough about the night to know where the rest of her clothes were?  She was still missing that other Victoria Secret garment, a sweater, and her socks.

 

Sam did now remember that she had to pee and so went about her business on the toilet, while still trying to defog her memory and figure out just what happened after they started with the beer. 

 

The Major could clearly remember the opening and unpacking of the cabin and their belongings.  No one had taken their things to a room because the three of them were all too stubborn to be the one taking the only guest bedroom—she must have won that somehow through the course of the night seeing she ended up there.  Sam chuckled as she recalled how annoyed she had become when Daniel had tried to push her into taking the guest room on the basis that she was the only female—she had damn near reminded all of them of that infamous line she had pulled on her CO when they had first met. 

 

Finished with emptying her bladder, the Major wiped and flushed, pulling her pants back up when all of a sudden the frog print curtain covering the bathtub and shower was raked back.  It would have scared the piss out of her if she hadn’t already gone and before the soldier in her could register who was behind the curtain she had shot off a punch that had damn near sent Teal’c’s head spinning—had the Jaffa not caught her wrist.   _Damn his reflexes were good…considering._

 

The tall black man’s lips quirked ever so slightly, as he let her wrist go to a string of colorful curses.  “Jesus Christ, Teal’c, have you been there the whole time?” she demanded, angrily.

 

The Jaffa’s head dipped in answer, before he inclined it ever so slightly to the side, explaining, “I do believe that I came to the washroom sometime last night with the intent of cleaning myself in the shower.  It is apparent now that I did not succeed.”

 

Sam’s eyebrow rose in response to the answer and she couldn’t help but smile, as she asked the obvious, “Did you sleep in the tub?”

 

“I do believe so, SamanthaCarter.” Teal’c answered her.  They stared at one another a moment, caught in the confines of the small bathroom.  The Jaffa was not wearing any pants—not that it seemed to bother him any—just a pair of black boxers and a tight fitting cotton wife beater, that seemed to highlight and define each of his broad muscles. 

 

He made the first move.  Teal’c took her elbows into his hands, steadying her as he took a step forward.  The bathroom was small and he guided her back as he cleared the edge of the tub, letting go of her when he was once he had stepped out.  Sam backed away from her comrade, her butt hitting the each of the counter roughly, as she tried to make room between them, still slightly embarrassed that she had pissed right beside the man.  Teal’c didn’t seem to be bothered by the experience—he looked somewhat amused in a way that made Sam a little flushed.  The Jaffa bowed to her, before opening the door to the bathroom.  He moved to leave and then stopped, pointing toward to mid-section, as he pointed out, “I feel I must inform you, SamanthaCarter, that the top of your pants is still unfastened.”  She blanched.  Then he was gone.

 

Cursing again, she fumbled with the zipper of her jeans, then the button.  When she had them done up she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror again—no need to add blush to her cheeks, she was already a bright red.  Sam groaned and hoped to hell that the rest of the day went better.

 

The Major exited the bathroom, knowing full well her face was as bright as a tomato and damn irritated about it, as she marched down the hallway and then the stairs that opened up into the living room and open kitchen.  The refuse from their night of frivolities was everywhere.  If she thought she had been a tornado in her sleep then the rest of the cabin must have been hit by typhoon of booze and snack foods. 

 

Bottles of varying degrees of emptiness littered the area, topping the coffee tables, counters, and the mantle of the fireplace.  Some were even precariously set on the back of the couch and on the floor.  Joining them were the remains of the garbage they had devoured with the liquor—nachos, cheese puffs, popcorn, pizza, and wings.  It was a minefield that she was unsure she wanted to try to move through. 

 

Catching movement from the corner of her eye, she glanced to her side fast enough to see the barest glimpse of Teal’c walking around the porch of the house, perhaps out for some fresh air.  She looked again at the minefield and wondered how the large man had gotten around everything to make a safe exit.   _No matter,_ she reminded herself,  _priority here is finding the rest of my clothes._

Sam did a quick survey of the two rooms, noting discarded clothes were mixed in with the other dangerous goods their partying had left behind.  Daniel’s navy polo was hanging from the king sized bass that ornamented the top of the mantle, joined by a couple of mismatched socks.  Her CO’s plain grey sweat pants were draped over the white shade of the standing lamp in the corner and slung over the back of the recliner was the Adidas track pants Teal’c had been wearing—was he outside now with out pants?  She felt heat rush to cheeks again and scolded herself.  She needed to focus—despite the pain of the pounding migraine and the resulting mess of their card playing.

 

“That’s right,” she drawled to herself, as she sighed and let her head flop back.  She now recalled that the beers had led to a poker challenge—Daniel had made some comment that spurred the game—something about Teal’c’s unfair advantage for having mastered the ‘poker face’.  The Colonel wouldn’t let that stand in his own cabin and so they had taken over the long coffee table in the living room to play poker. 

 

The table was covered in cards and poker chips of all colors, looking like the last game they must have played must have been 52 pick-up.  The couch was still sitting slightly askew from the wall.  She cracked a grin, stifling a chuckle, as she recalled watching Teal’c try to perfect the “elevator”, after Jack had showed up the stoic Jaffa’s version of the “stairs”.  Her boys really were corny.  Daniel had even tried to “moon-walk” and had failed miserably, managing to trip over the beer box and knock one of the standing lamps over.  At least nothing had broke.

 

And, there they were—with some satisfaction, Sam spotted her socks.  Both of the black and pink-stripped ankle socks were pulled down over top of the neck of a beer bottle and the infamous pomegranate tequila, the toes sticking straight up at the ceiling.  Having found something was better than nothing, although she wasn’t desperate enough for socks that she would brave wading through the debris to get to them.  They could stay where they were and she would continue her hunt.

 

At least it wasn’t overly cold.  The coo-coo-clock above the couch showed 1100 hours and the warmth of the sun coming in through the windows foretold of the heat that was to come with the afternoon.  Finding her sweater was of no big consequence unless she remained unable to locate the bra.  Then she saw her suitcase, the plain burgundy wheeled case leaning against the wall of the entry way to the far side of the cabin, along side Daniel’s black briefcase and Teal’c’s gym bag.  Of course, she had other bra’s—she never traveled without a sports bra and a spare—but she was unsure if she wanted to leave the item hid incase one of her comrade’s happened upon it before she did. 

 

Sam would loath to admit to any of the boy’s that she had one of the season’s hottest bra’s—with the matching bikini bottom’s.  Working with her team as the SGC required them to do meant that they had very little privacy, especially off-world—keeping her undergarments unimaginable in their mind’s eye was a high priority in her books.

 

So she sighed, because it didn’t take long to decide what her next move would be.  She had little choice in the matter.  She felt exposed in the thin camisole and if she wanted relief she would need to get to her suitcase on the other side of the cabin, through the minefield.  She knew that to the best of her knowledge the Victoria Secret hot pink and deep purple lace trimmed under garment was not behind her— _onward, Major!_

Sam managed to get to the suitcase with only minor difficulty.  She had spilled one half full beer, sloshing the foaming brown liquid across the wood floor and a little onto the cow-skin rug under the coffee table, and she had crunched at least three cheese puffs, four popcorn kernels, and one slimy mushroom that had strayed from someone’s pizza.  She felt a little dirtier than before but she had made it to her suitcase.  Still no sign of the bra but she did spy her sweater half slung in the sink—which was of course full of water. 

 

After taking out the Under Armor green sports bra from her suitcase, she went into the kitchen to inspect the damages.  Apparently, her sweater had not been as lucky as her blue jeans.  There was a dark rouge stain the size of a grapefruit on the cream colored large-knit cardigan.  She must have put it in the water to try to remove what was surely merlot and had obviously failed miserably.  She made a tsking sound with her tongue as she cursed her own drunken stupidity, picking up the sopping wet sweater and beginning to wring it out.  The task brought back another piece of her memory from the prior events—something about the merlot. 

 

Daniel had brought the wine to share with her, no one else would drink it with him, and the mishap had happened when his hand had slipped on the corkscrew, both the bottle and the corkscrew flying out of his butter fingers.  The result had been the stain on her sweater and a broken bottle.

 

The cork was still on the corkscrew, laid beside the double sink.  The tea towels in the other side were also stained a deep red.  She should have known better than to let Daniel try to open the bottle after they had already finished a box of beer and the mickey of spiced rum.  Had that been before or after the card game had started?  She tried to focus on the thought, as she draped the sweater over the handle of the stove and began to wring out the tea towels.

 

The Major could remember playing cards now.  It seemed like that had been the main focus of the evening—the Colonel had refused to accept that he could lose—and they played until finally the rest of them had become bored with the stakes.  She shook her head now, as it returned to her, the bemused look on Daniel’s face as her CO had enticed them all to play a spicier game.  Sam knew that she had objected to playing strip poker—she had learned that lesson quickly in grad school—and it was juvenile.  Teal’c had agreed with her, stating he did not want to play for clothing because of their taste in fashion.

 

“Oh, he didn’t…” Sam mumbled, biting her cheek, as she began to remember more.  Of course, by then the Colonel was on a mission—no was not an acceptable answer.  Daniel had seemed to be on his side, glancing amongst them as if he would let the Colonel do just about anything at that moment to keep himself entertained. 

 

Sam slapped a hand against her forehead, cursing her own stupidity—drunk granted—but still stupid.  Somehow she had lost her senses and agreed to play a round of strip poker—the winner then having the right to dress the unlucky sole that he so choose to wear the winnings for the rest of the evening.  The blond chuckled, hanging the towels beside her sweater, as she concluded that neither her nor Teal’c had won.  She had sported as many clothes that morning as Teal’c had—at least she had slept in a bed—so that left Daniel and the Colonel. 

 

The two of them were still missing.  She had not seen any sign of either of them and assumed that seeing the snoring had not ceased that one of them was still asleep in the master bedroom.  Feeling a little anxious that her prized bra was somewhere in that room the Major was compelled to at least take a look—perhaps she would be able to infiltrate and retrieve the garment without detection.  That way the boys would be none the wiser and she could hide it back within the confines of her suitcase. 

 

The blond double-checked that Teal’c was still outside before she tip-toed her way through the mine field back to the stairs that led to the second floor and the bedrooms.  No one was about when she padded down the hallway to the master bedroom, where she found the door slightly a jar.  She hesitated, hearing the snoring hitch and then a grumbled groan as the snore-er awoke.   _Damn,_  she cursed, biting her lip—her hopes of stealing in and out now dashed. 

 

Sam stood there, quiet as she could be, back to door of the linen closet, as she counted her options and calculated her chances.  As she ran numbers through her head that didn’t really matter any more, she also could hear the sound of a mattress shifting and blankets being tossed.  Whoever was inside was getting up.  Her mind screamed at her to move, to escape—as if she were in danger on a mission where the shit had just hit the fan—but her curiosity kept her feet planted.  This was the Colonel’s cabin, the Colonel’s bedroom—yet just now she could have swore the waking grumbles had been Daniel’s.

 

Like a fox twitching its ear to a sound caught on the wind, her curiosity was caught—trapping her where she stood, although her conscience lectured her that she should leave.  Sam raked her teeth back over her bottom lip and gave into the urge she felt to glance through the two or three inches of the open doorway.  The sunlight through a window at the head of the bed illuminated the room.  She could see the queen sized bed and the worn plaid duvet.  Her breath caught in her throat.  She could see the sleek lean abs of her comrades stomach and the length of his runner’s thighs—Daniel was stretched out across the bed—Daniel was naked.  She couldn’t turn her eyes away despite the guilt that begged her to and, as her heart thundered in her chest, she saw her CO, jeans half done up, lean down over top of the archeologist.  

 

When their mouths met and they shared a passionate good morning kiss, she felt both horrible and horribly aroused.  She closed her eyes and turned away—she still couldn’t move.  Her legs felt like they were made of cement.  The image of the two men was burned into her mind, the gentle yet yearning touch of their lips meeting sticking like crazy-glue to the walls of her brain.

 

Then came his voice.  It was deep and husky, full of want and love, as he spoke in an undertone to the other man beneath him on the bed, “Damn, Danny…this is the best thing I have ever woke up to in the morning.”

 

She listened intently, pushing guilt out of her mind—straining to hear.

 

Daniel chuckled, sounding unconvinced, as he groggily responded, “Oh…the pounding of my head makes me think not, Jack.  I feel…horrible.”

 

Sam heard her CO scoff and teasingly reply, “I don’t care what Teal’c says about our fashion sense,” he paused to laugh and she heard the unmistakable sound of a cell phone taking a picture, as he added, “you in Victoria Secret is a turn on.”

 

~fin~ 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the edits that didn't make the cut... 
> 
> Bloober Reel 1) Daniel was naked. She couldn’t turn her eyes away despite the guilt that begged her to and, as her heart thundered in her chest, she saw her CO, jeans half done up, lean down over top of the archeologist.
> 
> A flicker of a shadow caught her eye as Sam realized there was a figure standing in the window above the bed—Teal’c in fact—he was looking down into the bedroom…Then he slowly descended out of view, as though he were in a—Oh, my God he’s doing the elevator! 
> 
> Blooper Reel 2) Then came his voice. It was deep and husky, full of want and love, as he spoke in an undertone to the other man beneath him on the bed, “Damn, Danny…this is the best thing I have ever woke up to in the morning.”
> 
> She listened intently, pushing guilt out of her mind—straining to hear.
> 
> Daniel chuckled, sounding unconvinced, as he groggily responded, “Oh…the pounding of my head makes me think not, Jack. I feel…horrible.”
> 
> Sam heard her CO scoff and from the doorway she coached, “Rail ‘em, Jack! Give it to ‘em like he deserves it!”
> 
> Blooper Reel 3) Sam did now remember that she had to pee and so went about her business on the toilet, while still trying to defog her memory and figure out just what happened after they started with the beer. As she thought of the nights past events her stomach clenched and rumbled, her bowels suddenly and violently exited the nights worth of flatulence in one explosive burst—followed by one last toot that sounded like the pinched screeching of a balloon expelling the gas from within.
> 
> “Whew, that Tequila is nasty in the morning…” she mumbled, waving her hand under nose.
> 
> Finished with emptying her bladder, the Major wiped and flushed, pulling her pants back up when all of a sudden the frog print curtain covering the bathtub and shower was raked back. 
> 
> “In the name of all the false gods treachery you are vile, woman!” Teal’c cursed.


End file.
